A Young Elf's Tale
by Starstruck Whisperings
Summary: A young elf wants nothing more than to help her home land, but a little excitement is always welcome. And how it comes... K-Plus for some violence. OC centric. REVISED


Disclaimer: none of it is mine, except the characters you don't recognize and the plot. But the plot is so cliché I am not sure I can even claim to own that... All J.R.R. Tolkein's,

Author's note: Okay, this is my first time writing one of these, so I'd really like to know what you thought of it. I am sorry for anything that isn't precise in Tolkein's land, but if you tell me I will change it. (I know in the book Legolas only had one knife, but I like two knife fighting better.)

I want to thank Jedi Sapphire, because she was a real inspiration for me.

My ada is a smith. Not a blacksmith like the dwarves, but an elegant and wise metal crafter. My naneth works at the palace, as a counselor among other things. We live in one of the many branches of the palace. We have small living space, but large enough for us. We have an eating area, a (multi-purposed) study, a sitting area and three bedrooms; one for my parents, one for my brother, and one for my sister and I.

I am still young, only 97. I am the youngest of the three, my brother being the oldest. While I have received some training, and all three of us have been practicing the elven art of hand-to-hand combat (in a dignified fashion, as they say), I may begin my official warrior training today. My muindor is already a talented swordsman, and my sister is training to be one too, but I will be training to be an Archer of the Cúthalions. My brother is tall and lean, but still quite strong, and very wise. He is handsome in an unkempt way, but still has the graceful appearance of the elves. My sister is shorter, like my mother, but even stronger than him. She is quite beautiful, even in the armor-like clothing she wears as a swordsman, but she is rather intimidating. I know many who can't seem to look past this, can't see her wavy light brown locks, or the gentle, yet stern features of her face. I am not quite as tall as my muindor - and probably never will be. I am just strong enough for my path, but I have fast reflexes and keen eyesight as well as hearing.

My sister is not much older than I am, but she is already 10 years into her training. I am starting earlier than most. Most elflings learn some basics of the skills of war very young in these parts, and I was no exception. Sometimes knowing your way around a fight can mean the difference between life and death, when the shadow of evil looms over our forest. My sister and I were quite skilled (my brother was already well on his way in his official training by then), and my mother knew Toruntőnt, the Archery and Weapons Master, from council and asked him to watch one of our sessions. He was impressed, and when he had time to spare would give us better, proper training.

My ada is sad that all of his children are to become soilders, and that we were rapped up in war so early. He is sad, but he and my mother had already decided that it would be best for us to join the army if we could. They know that Greenwood's, now Mirkwood's, fate rests on the hands of its army. They were blessed with three children, a rare occurrence for elves, and felt it their duty to use their fortune for the greater good.

So, I am to train to become an Archer. We were uncertain on my fate, not sure what my body shape and skill set would be right for. I was not the right build to be a swordsman, but I still would be good for something. It was Toruntőnt's idea. He had been noting my progress and talents as he observed my training. He had been an Archer before he and King Thandruil agreed he would be better as the trainer and retired from his duties as a warrior, so when he told my parents he thought this was my path, they were inclined to agree. I like the thought of being an Archer. I have heard many stories of them from my mother and older elves, and I know they are very important. They are very skilled, and it is hard to become one. Their battle stories are legends around the kingdom.

Because I am so young, Toruntőnt had to ask special permission to start training me. Prince Legolas trusts his judgment, so he said if I could pass the Training Exam, I could join. The Training Exam is a test of ability and talent- not skill, as skill is gained by practice and learning. While all elves aiming to become an Archer have tests they must pass in order to continue training, they are given official training before the first test. The Training Exam is given to all elflings younger than the standard who have reason to believe they are good enough to begin being trained. Prince Legolas had to take something similar himself, as he had displayed talent at an early age. But no one has passed the test in centuries.

Toruntőnt offered to bring me to the range, as my parents had work, and he would arrive shortly. I brushed out and re-braided my hair, wanting to look my best. As expected, a knock was heard. My mother greeted Toruntőnt, and I raced out of my room silently, sneaking up from behind and giving him a hug, startling him.

"You certainly have worked on moving silently!" he said proudly, for he had been teaching me that skill. My sister emerged from the study, what she had been doing there I do not know. She gave the elder elf a hug as well. As part of her education, she was assigned to work on one of the less dangerous patrols tonight, so she had no training during the day and would come to my exam.

We left shortly thereafter, and set off at a brisk pace. Although the walk was long, none of us were even out of breath when we arrived. An elleth waited, for us, smiling reassuringly. She introduced herself.

"I am Rosechilan, the test administrator. As you know, this is not a test of skill so you should not be nervous. You must be good if Toruntőnt chose you himself!" at this, Toruntőnt slightly reddened, but quickly recovered.

The first test was in archery. A target was set up at a distance of 50 yards.

"Fire!" I drew an arrow quickly, took a few seconds to aim and followed the command. Before I could look to where the arrow had landed, she called out again, and 3 more times after that. I sheathed my bow and at a slight nod from Rosechilan I went to retrieve my arrows. The first one had hit dead center, and the rest were tightly grouped around it. I returned the arrows to my quiver.

As I ran back down the range, I could hear the trees whispering excitedly, but could not understand them. Rosechilan instructed me to the next target, which I estimated was at a distance of 60 yards. I held my bow uncertainly.

"Fire!" the arrow whizzed past, landing dead center. I breathed a sigh of relief, but before I could celebrate I was being ordered to the next target, 70 yards away.

"Fire when ready." I drew an arrow and aimed, taking an extra second to be sure, and released the projectile. It was a hair's width from the center. Rosechilan nodded and wrote something down in a notebook that had appeared out of nowhere.

The next task was sparring, with the two knives traditional to the Archers. Rosechilan handed me two blunted blades. My only advantage was my training in hand-to-hand combat, which is not just punching and kicking- it is a gracile, elegant art. We eyed each other, moving around the circle and changing stances. She made the first offense. I easily blocked, and made an attack of my own which she parried. This went on, each of her attacks becoming harder and faster. After about 4 minutes, she disarmed one of my knives, meaning my defeat... I hadn't lasted very long. I was able to see My instructor in the sidelines, clenching and unclenching his hands uncertainly. I had failed him, he risked his reputation on getting me here and I wasn't going to pass-

I saw a the glimmer of steel out of the corner of my eye, and just barely caught the object that had been tossed to me. I continued the fight, and Rosechilan, slightly fazed from my receiving a new weapon went on. I only lasted a minute or so more, because she kept increasing the difficulty of her attacks like before. I had been too involved in the fight, so it finally registered that it was strange Rosechilan would keep fighting after that unfair move. Whoever threw the knife must... I snapped my head around. None other than Prince Legolas himself was standing there, grinning like an elfling. Blessed Valar in the Blessed Relm, _the Prince of Mirkwood_ had just thrown _me_ a knife so I could keep fighting. And grinning about it. I bowed my head, more out of self consciousness than out of respect.

" You put up quite a fight," he noted. The tips of my ears turned red, but he was smiling so kindly, I did not feel out of place for long.

"I knew the test was today, so I wanted to come over to see how our young candidate was doing," he continued. "Its been a very long time since we had an under-aged elf join us." His face turned slightly apologetic before he continued. "Well, I have duties to attend to, but it has been a honor to meet you, Alehia." and with that, he picked up the knife I had dropped and strode off purposefully.

_To join us, an honor to meet you..._ his words rang in my mind. _The prince knew my name_. _To join us..._ he said it so casually, even though he was the leader, and so confidently, like he knew I would join him... _Don't get too cocky,_ Muindor's voice rang in my head. I still had half of the test to go.

The rest was uneventful. The balance and agility exercise left me particularly satisfied, as I leaped from the trees gracefully, not even falling when she instructed the tree to move a branch mid jump. Then I played a joke on Rosechilan, convincing the tree she was sitting on to drop her on to a lower branch, giving her quite the start. Much to my relief when I realised this was a complete stranger, she laughed it off.

"Well, I believe I am correct in saying that you will be seeing Toruntőnt tomorrow at sunrise." My mouth dropped open."Don't get your hopes up, but I don't think I am wrong." I ran to my sister, tackling her in a hug. She lifted me off the ground, like when we were children. Toruntőnt escorted us home, and I could tell how proud he was from the way he way he told Naneth of the test, although he did not say it directly.

After he left, I went to my room to freshen up and remove my weapons. As I slid my knife sheath off my waist, I realized I had the knife the price had let me use. I must have slipped it in there out of habit. I examined the blade, noting the differences. The blade itself had no imperfections, no nicks or scratches, which seemed strange after the old, used knives Toruntőnt gave me when he first suspected I would be an Archer. The handle was made of pale, birch wood, while Rosechilan's blunted knives, while very fine, were of deep cherry wood. I tucked it back into the belt. I removed my bow and quiver, but left the small dagger I kept strapped near my ankle at all times.

I was quiet at dinner that night, giving only a brief explanation of what happened at the test, leaving out my encounter with Prince Legolas entirely. Of course, this was not satisfying to my family, so when the questions were fired off faster than Rosechilan had me firing arrows, my sister came to the rescue. I smiled gratefully at her, and excused myself to bed. My knife sheath caught my eye, and I could not help but admire the Prince's knife. I could tell that no one but the Prince, and possibly the King, had a similar one. I slipped into my night clothes, removed the dagger from my leg to under my pillow. Before I ventured into the land of elven dreams, I sensed my sister gazing down on me before entering her own bed. Even though she acted – and _was_ – tough, I knew she had been proud of me.

That morning I woke up at the crack of dawn, maybe an hour before I usually do. It was probably because I was excited to learn if I would begin training, if I was to become an Archer of the Cúthalions. Ada was still home, but I knew he would be leaving soon. I retrieved the Prince's knife from my room.

"Ada," I approached him cautiously. "How much did Gwenêl tell you about yesterday?" I asked, concealing the precious knife behind my back.

"She told us you did very well, and the instructor seemed impressed. I hear you made a practically perfect shot from 70 yards."

"What did she you tell you of the sparing exercise?'

"You lasted a while, even when she got into the more difficult attacks."

"I would not have lasted as long as I did if it were not for this," I answered, showing him the knife. I quickly explained the story of how I got it. " I would like you to sharpen it, for it has too good of a quality for practicing." He smiled.

"Of course, penneth. I can see how much this means to you." He wrapped the knife in a piece of cloth, and began to depart. I ran up an hugged him. "Thank you, Ada." and with that he left, to turn one of my most precious treasures into something that would one day save my life, along with its first owner.

The memory fades almost as soon as it appeared. Every nerve in my body screams with pain, but I fight on. We were a small group, but it looks like we will win this battle. We have lost much, but they have lost more. My knives glint in the sun, and I fight even though my body protests. We are slashing, stabbing and cutting too fast for mortal eyes to see. It looked like we would win, even though we were ambushed and taken off guard.

It happened in an instant.

An orc, the leader of the group, was taking on my Prince. He is already wounded, and beginning to slow. I cut my way though the rotten flesh of orcs to get to him. We stand back to back, while he battles one foe, one unbeatable foe, I keep the others at bay, until the one falls and we finish them off. He has ordered all the seriously wounded to find safer ground, but I refused to leave his side, I will not leave him alone to fight something he can not win by himself this time. Soon enough, we become the only ones left on the battle field, but the others formed a circle around and I can hear their bows sing; with each note another orc falls. Only a few of the dark warriors are left, but it is too late. To lessen their shame, one orc has decided if they would not get victory, they would take out our valiant leader who had killed so many of them today, and thousands more since he could first shoot strait. It happens so fast. There is only one thing I can do, and I lunge, thanking the Valar for my fast reflexes. The scimitar makes a deep cut in my side, and I only manage to kill him before I collapse with a cry of pain. The Prince, my prince, finishes the last orc and kneels at my side.

"You saved me." I smile weakly in return. I belatedly think of how the last cut would not have killed me, had I not been so injured beforehand. I know I'm going to die, although I don't know how. But this is the end.

"Why didn't you listen, and fall back? You would have lived. Why did you have to stay?" the anguish is clear in his voice.

"For you... For Mirkwood... For Greenwood," I answer, gasping. "Do not... blame yourself. This… was my choice."

"Don't talk-"

"Hannon Le. For all this. And for the knife that made it all possible. Hannon... Le." I groaned, and raised my twin blades across my chest, a position of honor, that I died for Mirkwood. One was the red cherry wood of the Archers, the other the white of our Prince, that I now had for more than a millennium. He gently removes them from my weak grip, and wipes the black blood on his tattered leggings. He returned them to my fingers. A silent tear trickles down his face.

"It has been my honor, Alehia Vendaltion, to have fought beside you."

" The honor... is all mine. I am proud... to die... for my home... and my prince." I close my eyes, for the last time in this world and consciousness, and my soul was picked up on a white bird and I flew on its back, through the trees I loved so much, to the Halls of Mandos.

" îdh " was the last thing he whispered to me. One of the elves who had been treated by one of the healers came, and they carried my body away. Away to be burned with honor. I was the only to not walk away from that battle, even though many walked away on crutches or leaning heavily on another, or were carried to the palace healing wings. Rosechilan, who had become my best friend over the years, sailed to Valinor after my death. She was so tired of death, and sadness and despair, that come often to a fighter. Valinor was the only place where she might find peace again.

I told him not to blame himself, but the poor elf could not heed my last request. The only thing that kept him from fading from grief, grief accumulated from all the warriors that I now have join in Mandos' Hall, that has resurfaced, was his swear of vengeance. He swore over my dead body that for each elf that had been lost to the hands of evil, they would lose so much more. I did not think he would be this effected, this effected by one elf that he had led to many a battle, when he had become familiar with loss so long ago, but I think it was my loyalty. When he saw me refuse to fall back, he realized that all the elves who had died protecting Mirkwood from the darkness had done it out of loyalty and love for Greenwood. And loyalty and love for him.

Translations(some is Quenya, some is Sindarin):

Ada – Father

Naneth – Mother

Muindor – Brother

Penneth – Young one

Hannon Le – Thank You

îdh – Rest

Author's note-

I feel guilty. But this ending is so sweet and agnsty... To make myself feel better, I will tell you that this is how she wanted to die. When she saved Legolas, she knew if he died, the hope of Mirkwood would die too. She desperately wanted Mirkwood to be Greenwood the Great again, and was willing to give her life for the cause.

We will be seeing Alehia again, explaining some of the stuff in the text, and giving you a glimpse of her adventures. The main characters of LOTR are always used, so i wanted to show the members of the Fellowship weren't the only ones who had an adventure. Although I have only read a few OC fanfics that I liked.


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